


Gewalt/Geralt

by UlsPi



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Jewish Character, Jewish Geralt, Jewish Jaskier, Jewish everyone, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26357797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Geralt is a bodyguard to Jaskier, Jewish superstar.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

In the beginning G-d created Geralt, and then, just to torment him, G-d created everything else. That was Geralt's take on the history of creation. He was of the firm opinion that G-d never cared about sensory overload, because otherwise G-d wouldn't have bothered with all the… rest. 

Vesemir managed to convince Geralt, for the sake of his extremely liberal bar mitzvah, that G-d made forests and shit (Vesemir's words) to calm idiots like Geralt (Vesemir's words). Geralt accepted it for the sake of his bar mitzvah but refused to accept it afterwards. His lesbian rabbi didn't seem to care and even chastised Vesemir, but the damage was done. 

Vesemir's kids were problematic boys forever stuck in foster care, so the lesbian rabbi apologised later. So did Vesemir. They kept apologising to each other for ten years. Compared to the forty years in the desert it was nothing. 

Geralt had no problems working in his father's business (private security) because it allowed him to avoid thinking about his true vocation. Geralt was sure that his true vocation was to get away from sensory overload, so being quiet, invisible, super strong and unassuming was good. He learned to filter out everything unnecessary, although it was exhausting, but Vesemir was very proud of him.

Along the lines and years, Vesemir told rabba Esther that he was aroace, ran away from his family who had pestered him to marry, hit the gym and became the most fearsome of Jews on the planet, not that anyone knew. Rabba Esther wept for Vesemir and apologised to him for ten years more, for which Vesemir's boys had to be responsible since they were in charge of kabbalat Shabbat cookies. 

So let him arise Gad (Geralt), son of Arye (Vesemir), brother of Ezekiel (Eskel) and Lior (Lambert), and bless him accordingly. Let him arise to the sounds of violins, oboes, guitars and all the rest. Let him arise before it all becomes too much. 

"Have you heard of Jaskier?" Vesemir asked, without much hope but with much understanding. 

"No," Geralt said. Vesemir blessed the Lord for giving him such a wonderful son. 

"He's a superstar. Has stadiums singing along to Klezmer songs. Plays the violin better than David."

"David didn't play the violin." Geralt frowned in confusion. Before he could tell Vesemir everything there was to know about violons, Vesemir hastily corrected himself:

"Plays the violin better than David had played whatever instrument he played."

"Jonathan's cock?" Geralt offered. Vesemir swore to kill Lambert - and blessed the Lord for giving him Lambert. 

"No. Anyway. The point is he has a stalker and his team can't handle the situation. They are already handling his Twitter account and weekly trips to the shul."

Geralt nodded sympathetically. 

"I want you to take care of him, if you could. Gad'i, he needs our help. He's a Jewish artist, very naive, very stupid, very talented. We wouldn't want him to die."

"We wouldn't," Geralt agreed without much conviction. Vesemir blessed the Lord once again.

"So, you go there and take care of him," Vesemir implored. He took a good look at his favourite, his Joseph, his pride, his honour, his darling. He was tall, strong, broad-shouldered, perfect in every way. Perhaps his white hair was too white for his age but it gave Geralt some gravitas he needed. After all, he tended to be very naive.

***

It took Geralt exactly ten seconds to trick every security person on his way to Jaskier's townhouse. For fuck's sake, it was Manhattan, it had to take him a bit longer. 

No way. 

Everyone on Geralt's way let Geralt in, until he was faced with a skinny, ridiculously handsome and bright musician who was dancing to an ancient Jewish melody with the same passion one would have been expected to save for a club or some other establishment full of sensory overload. Jaskier was dancing wildly all the same. 

It was Cuando el Rey Nimrod, Geralt recognised. And Jaskier danced to it… He was ridiculous, careless, so unlike any self-important celebrity Geralt had had the bad fortune to keep safe. It was mixed with bits and pieces of rap versions of the song. 

"What do they say against the black Jews again?" Jaskier yelled. A big black guy joined him, instantly over-dancing Jaskier, but surprisingly, Jaskier welcomed his partner most passionately. 

"Yeah, Danek, give it to them, to all those arseholes!" Jaskier invited. He was skinny and lousy and his beautiful fat partner had the grace of a muse, but Jaskier kept dancing, then playing his violin. The black man kept dancing and Jaskier kept playing, beautiful, fragile, stupid… so incredibly fragile and cute Geralt forgot how to breathe in his presence. 

No, it wasn't right. Geralt was a professional, so colourful shirts and tight pants had no effect on him, none whatsoever. 

Geralt barked. 

The music stopped, so did the dancing. 

Danek looked at Geralt in displeasure. Jaskier, on the other hand, looked at Geralt with such joy and happiness that Geralt immediately felt uncomfortable.

"Oh… you're one of Vesemir's! So glad to see you!" Jaskier grabbed Geralt's hands and shook them excitedly. Geralt winced. 

And suddenly Jaskier let go of his hands and took a careful step back. 

"It's alright, Danek. Our new friend can't stand noise. Or music. Poor dear…"

Jaskier didn't sound condescending. His expressive, beautiful face remained caring, worried. He behaved like someone in Geralt's employ, not vice versa.

"I'm afraid, we're loud here," Jaskier explained apologetically. "Please… just… if you could explain what makes you uncomfortable? Other than loud music, that is?"

"It's… I'm here to protect you." Geralt insisted. 

"Of course you are!" Jaskier assured. "Now, how can we help you?"

"I am here to help you," Geralt clarified. He felt uncomfortable here. There seemed to be no clear guidelines - and to make matters worse, Danek and Jaskier exchanged looks.

"Thank you, dear," Jaskier said joyously. "I'm not the easiest person to help… not in my position anyway. I'm afraid I enjoy attention, no matter how bad. I'm sure you can help with that." Jaskier grinned. "Let me show you around."

The house was big and messy. Jaskier alone had at least three bedrooms where he slept, depending on his mood. Besides Jaskier in the house lived: Jaskier's manager Danek, Jaskier's SMM Duny, Jaskier's producer Mousesack and a few more people of unidentifiable roles and very forgettable names. Geralt couldn't understand why everyone had to live together, but so be it. Being given the leave to do whatever you need dear heart, Geralt scared the motley crew of the house's inhabitants into caution and paranoia. The useless people in security were fired and replaced. Now even Geralt had problems entering the territory. Unfortunately even the most heartless and impeccable guards had nothing against the ultimate weapon of Jaskier's smile and especially winks. The man winked so well, so sweetly… and he winked at everyone. Whoever wanted to harm that ray of sunshine had to be grumpier than Geralt, which, according to everyone who knew Geralt, was an unachievable accomplishment, right there with the philosopher's stone and Meshiach making it on time.

For all his bulk, Geralt lurked incredibly well, so a few passionate antisemtic arseholes stopped valdalising Jaskier's gate very quickly and ran away reconsidering their life choices after being lifted off their feet like kittens and being told that Geralt was Elijah the fucking prophet. By Geralt. Who had white hair and yellow eyes and towered over them. 

Next came the mail. Geralt sorted through it, and mostly it was plain old hate mail interspersed with adoring mail plus several stalkers. The one who had worried Mousesack, was using flowery language and paper cutouts. The letters were essentially invitations to play somewhere, and at this point the author of the letters grew vague and conspiratorial. 

Geralt looked at Mousesack. Mousesack was wearing just as many colours as Jaskier but looked more dignified, courtesy of his greying beard and clever twinkling eyes. "Don't look at me this way, Geralt! We're all Jews in here, we are never too careful, you know."

"I don't. You must, though. You worked for Mossad."

Mousesack coughed. "Just a translator, you know. Who told you?"

Geralt looked at Mousesack some more. 

"Alright, yes. I keep forgetting that you're relatives…"

"He's my dad. And we're good." Geralt was proud and therefore a bit boisterous. 

"You're fantastic. Knew it. Didn't know you were as good as your dad. How is he?"

Geralt hummed. 

"Right… so… don't go too hard on Jaskier, ok? The kid's mom ran away from the dad. She was scared till her last day, and he's a bit reckless because he thinks she had no reason to be… his dad is shit."

Geralt raised an eyebrow. 

"No, not like murderous shit… don't think so. But… something to consider, perhaps?"

"You think he'd stalk his son?"

"He stalked his mother…" Mousesack became wistful. "She fought for him, for Jaskier. Fought for him against everyone, their community, her husband, her own parents, everyone, so… she wanted him just like he's today, ok? And we're here to protect him." Mousesack slapped Geralt's shoulder, and Geralt glared. "Sorry, won't happen again."

"Helllooooo, my favourite people!" Jaskier announced walking into Mousesack's office, all blinding smiles and easy movements. 

"You call everyone your favourite people," Geralt replied, puzzled. Mousesack had no such worries and went to hug Jaskier, although they had parted only an hour earlier. 

"Because everyone is my favourite people!" Jaskier practically sang. He was ridiculous and fragile like a… like a colibri. Geralt heard himself swooning and straightened up, schooling his face into a mask of never caring for anyone ever. "I'm off to that deli… and I want shrimps!"

Mousesack laughed and Geralt chuckled. 

"And then I want to get drunk! Who's with me!? Oh, right!" Jaskier remembered. "Danek is with me! Danek is releasing his first album…"

Jaskier wasn't drunk, but Geralt couldn't imagine him drunk, if that was his sober state. 

"I helped him a bit…" Jaskier confided, grabbing Geralt into a hug as well, apparently dissatisfied with only one person already hugging him. "So… I hope when he gets big… he will help me meet Beyonce. Shhhhhhh! Not a word more! It's a secret!" 

Jaskier abandoned Geralt and Mousesack as quickly as he hugged them and sauntered away making various gestures of secrecy. 

"See, he's precious, isn't he?" Mousesack beamed. Geralt grunted. 


	2. Chapter 2

"So, you're ready?" Mousesack asked, checking in on Jaskier behind the studio glass. Renfri, the sound director, rolled her eyes and fantastic bob. "Nice hair, Renfri, now let us be soft and good." Mousesack frowned. 

"Sure. Right."

"I'm ready," Jaskier replied happily. Geralt wanted to go and have a walk or eat a sandwich. The man was infuriating. He was happy and cheerful, no amount of hate mail, suspicious parcels, insensitive questions could take away Jaskier's inherent cheer. Geralt suspected he was allergic to cheer. 

Jaskier began singing - and Geralt's head snapped to watch the man-allergen who haunted Geralt's dreams with his blue blue blue eyes and soft words and… It was another old Ladino song. This one spoke about a lover who had no heart. Despite the sad tone of the song, Jaskier winked at Geralt. 

It was a regular thing, an everyday thing - Jaskier sang something in the morning in his home studio, just to start the day, find his voice. Sometimes Danek joined him, sometimes it was just Jaskier, but in any case, his performance was spectacular. He was a big bowl of chicken soup for a sick child. He was brighter than the sun. More ridiculous than Geralt could have ever imagined anyone to be. Oh, Geralt wasn't a poet, he just really liked Jaskier's singing. Not that he was ready to admit it, because then Jaskier would smile that supernova smile and Geralt would feel light and dizzy. 

Geralt realised he was staring at Jaskier and that Jaskier, as well as Mousesack and Renfri, were looking at him with different levels of smugness in their eyes. 

"Hmm," Geralt said. 

"Leave Geralt alone!" Jaskier at once turned strict and demanding like a prissy royal, but his face had that noble and serene expression that made everyone return to their job, and since Jaskier was Geralt's, he was the luckiest of them. Jaskier sent him another playful wink, which was when Geralt thought that he actually had no reason to be in Jaskier's studio but ended up there all the same. 

Geralt smiled, actually smiled, watching Jaskier going full Freddie Mercury while singing an old Ladino song about heartbreak. Jaskier smiled back. Jaskier didn't seem perturbed by Geralt, his height, his physique, any of it. 

On the other hand - and Geralt frowned - Jaskier was friendly and lovely with everyone. Besides, why should Geralt bother about Jaskier's affections? Geralt didn't care about anyone's affections, even when they belonged to his ex-girlfriend Yennefer who had a remarkable predisposition for calling Geralt repeatedly to tell him that they had been so done… Geralt wasn't actually that good with _affections_ stuff. 

***

For someone who seemed perpetually drunk, Jaskier was quite organised. Alright, he woke up at eleven in the morning, if anyone was lucky, but then he worked in his studio, rehearsing and warming up. Then he was composing, writing, trying, rehearsing again… 

And in the evening he was playing, was being enchanting and enthralling. 

Geralt tried his best to see a spoiled celebrity, but there was no proof to this opinion. Jaskier was indeed cheerful and kind and donating more than he could afford to various charities… Oh, Geralt once had to drag away a rabbi who was explaining to Jaskier that he hadn't had to donate so much and also had to stop being so gay. The rabbi tried to protest and tell Geralt that he was a rabbi, but Geralt recognised only female rabbis - and told him he was Elijah the prophet once again. He kindly shoved the rabbi and his big hat into a cab. Rabba Esther cried that Shabbat - but Jaskier calmed her in no time, so Geralt didn't feel any guilt, besides Jaskier sang _Lecha Dodi_ so well that Geralt was caught crying and, Gd help him, dancing.

Vesemir tried to reason with Geralt, but it ended up being just _Out of all Reform synagogues in New York he had to walk into ours, fix your tie, Gad'i._

***

It was Jaskier's big night… No, all his nights were big, whether they took place in Cotton club, or any other club, synagogue, community centre or a stadium. 

But it was Jaskier's big night, and things were overwhelming. Geralt had attended many a big night, he did, but somehow Jaskier's big night was just too much, so Geralt clenched his teeth, breathed deeply, filtered everything as if he had been a barnacle and kept standing there, he did, he did…

The lights were blinding, then Jaskier breathed into the microphone. 

"Hey, I know you folks had to pay a lot for this evening, and I'm so sorry. It's just… capitalism. I had to fight for the right to do all I wanted to this song, so… do me a favour and be quiet, babies… Shh…"

Suddenly it was dark, beautifully, overwhelmingly dark, then Jaskier's voice came. 

"Just listen, babies. I'm going to make this song what it had to be all along."

The stadium went silent. 

Jaskier's violin came in, quiet and peaceful, yearning, longing. The melody was familiar, someone even tried to cheer, but Jaskier shushed them.

"Quiet, baby… Oh, baby, baby…" He whispered into the microphone. "The goddess who wrote this song deserves absolute silence so that we all can get it, regardless of our libidos… Just listen." He placed his violin on his stomach and played it like a guitar, yet it made the yearning even worse, even more gut-wrenching. 

Jaskier played an old pop hit like a psalm. 

_Oh baby, baby_

_The reason I breathe is you_

_Boy, you got me blinded_

_Oh, pretty baby_

_There's nothing that I wouldn't do_

_It's not the way I planned it_

_Show me how you want it to be_

_Tell me, baby, 'cause I need to know now_

He sang, his voice flew over, young and old, oh that bastard used his praying voice for something that Geralt had long learned to treat as hubris and useless vanity, as an evidence of toxic masculinity of the numerous music producers, and he had protected a few of them… There was that vulnerable boy, lost in the darkness, no stage lights, no music other than what he played on his violin and, more importantly, sang along with that fearless voice of his. 

_My loneliness is killing me (and I)_

_I must confess I still believe (still believe)_

_When I'm not with you I lose my mind_

_Give me a sign_

_Hit me, baby, one more time_

In Jaskier's lips it was a prayer, a plea, something… Geralt wanted to think that She had planned it so, that it had been meant to be so, a prayer and a plea, a serenade of a young lover, someone never heard and never listened, and yet, there it was, flying over numerous heads, flying and fleeing and clinging. They knew nothing of the millennia of Jewish yearning that Jaskier had put into his arrangement.

Jaskier dropped his violin and his head. He submitted to the opinion of his audience - but they sang along to his Klezmer songs, all longing and humour and defiance. He was so beautiful, that Jewish boy, the one who could be anything, everything. 

Geralt clenched his teeth, fists, every muscle. 

_When I'm not with you I lose my mind_

_Give me a sign_

_Hit me, baby, one more time_

Geralt felt it, each girl, boy, non-binary person, weeping their souls to that song, simple and relatable. They all wanted to be sexy, they did, and so did Geralt, and he had the luxury of experiencing it, because Jaskier had made it so that the lights were dimmed, that his voice and his violin were the only things in the whole fucking universe. 

_Oh baby, baby, how was I supposed to know_

_That something wasn't right here?_

_Oh baby, baby, I shouldn't have let you go_

_And now you're out of sight, yeah_

_Show me how want it to be_

Fuck it all, Geralt thought, he infused that song with so much emotion, he made it so universal, he made it about lovers - and about Gd, he made it about Abraham and Isaac, he made it about every person who had ever yearned for another… Geralt had considered himself separated from such sentimental issues… He still wanted to hold Jaskier and promise him he'd never leave him, would never let him feel lonely and unloved. 

The concert was over, and no matter how the audience demanded, he still walked past Geralt, touching his elbow just so and winking at him just so. Geralt hated him so passionately… so, so passionately that he wanted to hold and to keep and to protect. The after-party was loud and obnoxious. Geralt kept his calm, his cool. He barely heard Jaskier telling everyone to dim the lights and speak low in that impossibly intoxicated voice of him that made everyone take pity on him. Mousesack shook his head, Renfri growled at everyone who came near, Danek made sure to entertain everyone with his own music - and Danek was the king of music by that point, although Jaskier had been rejected by Beyonce and Janelle Monáe. Their reasons had been good, legitimate, totally understandable, but Geralt had a hard time accepting them… he was just a bulk of muscle and hidden strength. Jaskier was fine, he had a shrine for each of them and had Geralt toss out everyone who told him he was wrong. 

And anyway, Geralt was doing his job. 

Then a young white idiot came by and mocked him. 

"Oh you can't be so tough… you need a pussy, right? Or I could just jerk myself off… I could, you know… Or are you just another fucking autist?" The man had his pants undone. Geralt kept watching Jaskier and dreamt of letting his steam off afterwards. 

Jaskier, in all his colourful glory, was between the arsehole and Geralt. "Leave him be, Valdo."

"Oh, I can't try to seduce your silly Jewish…" Valdo was interrupted by Jaskier's forehead making contact with his forehead. Geralt winced - but unnecessarily. Jaskier pushed the arsehole away and then pushed his knee up into Valdo's nose. 

Valdo crawled backwards clutching his nose and everything. Geralt gazed at Jaskier. 

Jaskier adjusted his fringe and beamed at Geralt. "A skinny gay Jew… Mom wouldn't have let me out without a couple of boxing lessons."

Valdo kept crawling backwards.

"Fuck off, Valdo. Fuck off and never come back." Jaskier stood his ground between Valdo and Geralt. 

"Hey, Jaskier, sing some more for us!" Mousesack begged trying to lower the tension in the room. 

Jaskier walked over to a small stage where he refused to sing any of his own original songs and sang A-ha until he was hoarse. 

_For you I'll be hunting_

_High and low_

The music went down, following Jaskier's sleepy exhaustion. Geralt wanted to hold him close to his chest. Safe and sound. Geralt wanted nothing else but to keep that silly man safe and sound. Forever. 


End file.
